


Xanadu

by missdibley



Series: Tom Actually: The Twelve Toms of Christmas [3]
Category: British Actor RPF, Thor (Movies), Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Foreplay, NSFW, Oral Sex, PWP, Smut, thor: rangarok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 23:04:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13041357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: Loki finds a way to be of use and of comfort to his people as they sail through the universe after Ragnarok brings destruction upon Asgard.





	Xanadu

**Author's Note:**

> I forgot the Christmas angle here so I'll find a way to add it later. In the meantime, enjoy.

His Royal Highness Prince Loki of Asgard was not in the habit of making himself available for audiences. He hadn’t planned to spend the duration of the voyage to Midgard listening to his subjects’ problems. But as Thor spent long hours in discussion with Valkyrie about the future of Asgard and its people, it was left to Loki to listen to their questions.

He performed this function bodily, in person, for the first two days of their journey. At the dawn of the third day, Loki knew Asgardians wanted only to know when they would arrive, where they intended to settle, and how they may resume their lives. It was easy enough to conjure a projection and, using a little more magic, infuse that projection with the answers they sought.

Relieved of this important if tedious duty, Loki spent his time exploring the ship, deep in thought about the future and how it might unfold. How many possibilities had been taken from him with Asgard’s destruction? How many new opportunities, like so many stars in the vastness of space, could he find or make for himself Now?

On the third night, Loki couldn’t sleep. Leaving his bed, he wandered to his favorite chamber on the ship: the navigation archive, home to electronic charts and maps of every part of the known, and parts of the unknown universe. There was also a loco-simulator. He had only to look up a few coordinates, or search by name in thousands of languages, and with the press of a button, the loco-simulator would create a live hologram of that very spot.

As it was late, Loki wasn’t expecting to find anyone there. But there was someone. A woman he recognized, though only by sight. She had worked at the Royal Archive. But as only the head librarians had been permitted to serve him, they were not acquainted. But with all of the librarians gone, killed during Hela’s short but chaotic reign, this woman with the baleful look in her dark eyes was one of the few Asgardians left who had a complete knowledge of Asgard’s history and culture. For someone who was her people’s living memory, she didn’t look wizened or burdened.

She looked annoyed.

No smile graced her full lips, and if there ever had been a shine in her dark eyes it was long gone. From within the folds of her crimson robes, she produced a book. It’s leather binding was singed but otherwise its pages were undamaged.

“Highness?” She stood up straight, not genuflecting when at last they were face to face.

“My lady.” He wasn’t nervous but something about her — the intense gaze, the way she flicked through the pages of the book — made him snap to attention.

“I have a question,” she said. “A question that your projection, nice as he was, could not answer.”

“I see,” he replied. “Forgive me, but I don’t believe we have been introduced previously.”

Remembering her manners, she made a small curtsy. “Jette.”

“Well met,” said Loki. He looked at her again, noting that her hair was as black as his. “And well named, it would seem.”

“I was named after my father, who vanished before I was born.” She wrinkled her nose. “Or was that his horse?”

Loki, despite himself, chuckled at attempt at a joke. “Is everyone in your family so jovial?”

At this, Jette stiffened. “No family. I was betrothed, but I lost him.”

“Was he those brave souls who gave their lives in defense of Asgard against the usurper?”

Jette smiled, then shook her head. “He was a tanner who left me for Vanaheim, a Vanir seamstress in particular, right before her attack. And as for my mother.” She looked down. “Before Heimdall brought us into hiding. Asgard had begun to fall, and in the chaos, her heart just… stopped.”

Loki murmured an ancient prayer, then bowed slightly. “My humblest, deepest condolences.”

“Thank you, your Royal Highness.”

Loki peered at the book in her hands, then looked up to find a tentative smile on her face. “You had a question?”

“Oh! Yes.” Jette handed the volume over, tapping a poem for him to read. “This was one of the few things I managed to save. A book of my mother’s, I never knew she had it until she gave it to me before dying.”

“Did she write it?” Loki asked.

“No. It belonged to my father. His name, written just inside the cover, and notations of his favorite poems.” She tapped the page again. “This one was underlined in its entirety. It must have been his favorite of them all.”

“It’s a handsome thing,” said Loki. Clearing his throat, he began to read.

_In Xanadu did Kubla Khan_

_A stately pleasure-dome decree:_

_Where Alph, the sacred river, ran_

_Through caverns measureless to man_

_Down to a sunless sea._

“I don’t recognize the author,” said Jette. “But he is of Midgard, yes? And I am not familiar with Midgardian literary history.”

“Neither am I. Or at least.” Loki inspected the book again. “Not familiar with these works.”

“I gathered,” replied Jette. “From the projection.”

Loki allowed as much. “And your question.”

“I wondered if this place, this Xanadu, was a real place on Midgard. A place we could perhaps visit, if not actually settle.”

Loki studied her face, then skimmed the rest of the poem. It seemed unlikely that this Xanadu, described in the words of a man who had been under the influence of some herbal or chemical substance, still existed. But the journey to Midgard, a place unknown to his subjects, was long. Who was he to deny them the room to dream about it?

Jette followed Loki when he walked to the console that sat near the door, reading over his shoulder as he read the poem again. Isolated lines, then recited those words into a device that recorded then repeated back what he had said. The console, with its screens and buttons, processed the information and then directed the projectors in the simulator to produce a hologram.

And seemingly all at once they were standing beside a stream. Jette could smell fresh grass, and feel the warmth of an unfamiliar sun on her skin. Behind them was a jungle, fresh and alive with flower-bedecked vines and fruit-bearing trees. But it was the vision in front of her that took her breath away.

A golden dome rose, shimmering and proud, from within the walls of a great city. Behind, a range of mountains whose peaks almost seemed to pierce the heavens. An impossibly blue sky. How could a part of Midgard be so much like Asgard?

Beside her, Loki smiled fondly at the scene. Was this Coleridge a seer, perhaps a mystic? Or was he a Midgardian who might have somehow, hundreds of years ago, stumbled into Asgard, where he fathered a child and, before leaving her, left behind his recollection of the place of her birth?

“Highness…” Jette looked up at him with eye that shone, as they were full of tears. “It’s beautiful.” She returned her attention to the scene. “Midgard is beautiful.”

Before Loki could agree, Jette wrapped her arms around his neck. As she was at least a foot shorter than he, it required some doing. But he was a quick study, and so enabled the embrace by sliding his arms around her soft waist. He felt the soft panting of her breath against his neck and then, quite suddenly, the warm press of her lips against his throat.

The room had warmed considerably when the hologram whirred to life, but the heat that Loki felt when Jette held herself against him was entirely his own. If he could have formed a cogent thought, he would have thought it ironic. He was a Frost Giant after all. But there was no room for words, not when the ground came rushing up to meet them. For now they knelt together, by the vision of a stream, in a verdant illusion that needed only the two of them to be perfect and complete.

If there was a moment’s hesitation, it was understandable. Jette had never known anyone’s touch but her own, and it had been ages since Loki had lain with another. The rumors of him and the Grandmaster were just that — rumors that he, in an attempt to elevate his reputation (as well as test the speed and accuracy of the network of gossips on Sakaar), started and stoked as they grew. He was intrigued by Valkyrie. Everybody in Asgard was. She fought, drank, and, by the sounds that came from her chambers (reinforced by the soldiers of all genders who were often found creeping from them in the small hours), fucked with a certain fury. So it was no surprise that, when he thought no one was looking, Thor regarded Valkyrie with such unabashed admiration and adoration that it would put any man or any woman with two good eyes to shame.

But then he brushed his lips against her cheek. She looked up at Loki, lips parted so she was ready to receive the kiss he bestowed upon her own plush mouth. Her eyes were open even as he sought more, opening so that his tongue might taste her. Jette saw Loki, watched him as he kissed down her neck. She saw him slowly guide her down, lay her beneath him before joining her on the floor.

His tunic was shrugged off and abandoned long before it occurred to her to open her robes. It could have been enough, just kissing him and tasting him, luxuriating in the weight of his lean body on her chest and the hardness of his erection as it pressed against her belly. She wasn’t muscular and strong like the warrior class, or young and supple like the courtesans. Jette had considered herself lucky to have been engaged to a simple tradesman. She didn’t know what to think now that there was a prince of Asgard teasing her nipples with his beautifully long tongue.

So Jette didn’t think. She flung her arms above her head, but only for a moment. And then Loki reached up, took her hands in his so he could thread her fingers through his hair. In this way, she followed Loki as he licked and sucked and nibbled down from her breasts, along her belly and hips, to the slick heat of her sex. Her legs parted easily for him, but still he kept one hand placed high upon her inner thigh. Used his thumb to stroke that crease, slowly and delicately even as with his lips and his tongue he sucked at her clit. Flicking his tongue over it, and then he was licking inside where she was hot and wet and impossibly sweet. Her essence dampened his cheeks but he was relentless, permitting himself the luxury of looking at her face as he, with his famous silver tongue, made her come.

Loki would have been happy to stay there, his head resting on her thigh and ears tuned to the sound of her moans of pleasure. But when she shifted, began combing his hair with his fingers, he smiled up at her.

“Was there something else?” Loki kissed her thigh. “Your Prince is listening.”

“Please,” Jette whispered. “Your Highness.”

“Loki,” he corrected her.

“Prince Loki,” she murmured. The sound was so sweet that he crawled up, this time saving his kisses for her shoulders, the crook of her neck, and her lips.

“Yes?” He whispered into her skin.

Jette ran a hand down from his neck, along his shoulder and warms, then let it come to rest on his stomach. Her fingers teased at the coarse hair above his cock. She turned her lips to his ear.

“Please.” She kissed his temple. “Show me what to do.”

Loki covered her hand with his and, as he began to move it down his shaft, replied: “Of course. Who am I to deny a subject as loyal, and as lovely, as yourself?”


End file.
